BOOK III

Now in the cabin of the Golden Hynde

At dusk, Drake sent for Doughty. From one wall

The picture of his love looked down on him;

And on the table lay the magic chart,

Drawn on a buffalo horn, all small peaked isles,

Dwarf promontories, tiny twisted creeks,

And fairy harbours under elfin hills,

With marvellous inscriptions lined in red,—

As Here is Gold, or Many Rubies Here,

Or Ware Witch-crafte, or Here is Cannibals.

For in his great simplicity the man

Delighted in it, with the adventurous heart

Of boyhood poring o'er some well-thumbed tale

On blue Twelfth Night beside the crimson fire;

And o'er him, like a vision of a boy

In his first knighthood when, upon some hill

Washed by the silver fringes of the sea,

Amidst the purple heather he lies and reads

Of Arthur and Avilion, like a star

His love's pure face looked down. There Doughty came,

Half fearful, half defiant, with a crowd

Of jostling half-excuses on his lips,

And one dark swarm of adders in his heart.

For now what light of chivalry remained

In Doughty's mind was thickening with a plot,

Subtler and deadlier than the serpent's first

Attempt on our first sire in Eden bower.

Drake, with a countenance open as the sun,

Received him, saying: “Forgive me, friend, for I

Was hasty with thee. I well nigh forgot

Those large and liberal nights we two have passed

In this old cabin, telling all our dreams

And hopes, in friendship, o'er and o'er again.

But Vicary, thy friend hath talked with me,

And now — I understand. Thou shalt no more

Be vexed with a divided mastership.

Indeed, I trust thee, Doughty. Wilt thou not

Be friends with me? For now in ample proof

Thou shalt take charge of this my Golden Hynde

In all things, save of seamanship, which rests

With the ship's master under my command.

But I myself will sail upon the prize.”

And with the word he gathered up the chart,

Took down his lady's picture with a smile,

Gripped Doughty's hand and left him, staring, sheer

Bewildered with that magnanimity

Of faith, throughout all shadows, in some light

Unseen behind the shadows. Thus did Drake

Give up his own fair cabin which he loved;

Being, it seemed, a little travelling home,

Fragrant with memories,— gave it, as he thought,

In recompense to one whom he had wronged.

For even as his mind must ever yearn

To shores beyond the sunset, even so

He yearned through all dark shadows to his friend,

And with his greater nature striving still

To comprehend the lesser, as the sky

Embraces our low earth, he would adduce

Justifications, thus: “These men of law

Are trained to plead for any and every cause,

To feign an indignation, or to prove

The worse is better and that black is white!

Small wonder that their passion goes astray:

There is one prayer, one prayer for all of us —

Enter not into judgment with Thy servant!”

Yet as his boat pulled tow'rd the Spanish prize

Leaving the Golden Hynde, far off he heard

A voice that chilled him, as the voice of Fate

Crying like some old Bellman through the world.